


In Limbo

by nice_dream



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, weird as hell sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 20:19:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18901927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nice_dream/pseuds/nice_dream
Summary: Conversation, judgement.





	In Limbo

He is in that itchy ecto-place between life and end, that STASIS ZONE, that purgatory, limbo. Drifting in unchoking smoke, whorls of crimson and greyblack shade, a vacuous forest of colored air.

Loki is weightless and nameless in this queer place, fingers stupid in front of him, forty of them when he moves his hands, then five again. He is being guided along by someone he can barely make out, some milkmist apparition with no face, some nondescript nothing-person that he pays little mind to.

He is not hot, or cold, is neutral in all things as they travel and merely contemplates, introspects on how he ended up here.

A redemptive act, entirely in vain, but it meant something, meant something to his brother, at the very least. Loki felt a certain peace upon realizing this a few limbo-miles back and has felt... okay, since. Okay knowing that their last adventure culminated in his end, an end caused by his own effort to help...

He is wholly unknowing of how long it has been; time is nothing here. Sometimes it stretches deep and infinite and other times he blinks and knows no difference. He feels as though, in the cosmic part of his godlike semisoul, that it has been a Long Time.

\--

 

Some epoch later he espies a distant figure and finds himself stopped and pulled no more. His leather boots meet curling, soft, pillowy down that solidifies under his feet. Standing! He! Loki begins to walk.

He knew her not from afar but up close, yes, her countenance is clear to him: Natasha. Smaller than he and slight in her heavy human 'hoodie', a dustgrey poofly thing emblazoned with that great idiotic A, bleach-dipped strawberry hair plaited around her crown like a waiting snake, peeking asp--

"Hey," She says, throaty rasp, remarkably not unfriendly. "Finally. I've been waiting, you know."

"You're gone, too?" Loki's voice sounds stupid and far away, unused, and he clears the pipes, so to speak. "You?" Disbelief colors him, grayblue, and he draws closer. "I..."

"Don't worry about it. I made my choice, just like you." Nat looks sideways at him. "Speaking of, I'm here to judge you. I'm your reckoner." A twinkle not dissimilar to a witch's; maybe she was.

"Ha! Me? Fate has twisted again, brought me to the spideress psychopomp. Irony, irony--!"

"If you're done waxing poetic, we can get started. Come on." A chaise and couch are there, somehow he did not notice before?, and Loki finds himself prone on burgundy corduroy, looking sideways at Black Widow, who is seated on the couch, fingers folded in her dark denim lap like, yes, white spiders.

"Tell me the important parts."

So he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is meant for nothing, really, though feel free to leave critique all the same. cheers!


End file.
